Cremation is a really bad idea
How exactly does cremation work?
No, not the burn-my-shit-up in a massive bonfire part, the part where I show up in Heaven as a sack full of ashes?
I was kind-of looking forward to catching up with the fam-fam in Heaven but I don’t see how that’s even possible if I’m nothing more than a pile of soot.
Besides, how will they know it’s me anyway—will the sack be labeled; Diego ala Fuego?
I hate to break it to ya, but I come from a pretty big family, all of whom will be waiting for me, cute little Diego, not some pile of ashes.
Yeah, I can see them all now, gathered around me, befuddled, as my smart-ass cousin Petey says something stupid like; “What the hell happened to you, you’re looking a little ashen?
To which I’ll respond, “______”.
That’s right. I won’t utter a word, and do you know why?
‘Cause I’m a fucking pile of ashes that’s why, and ashes don’t speak.
When was the last time you spoke to your ashtray—and it actually answered you, huh?
And what about my wings? I didn’t expect I’d be the “perfect” angel up there anyway, but how is this supposed to work? Do you just plug a pair of wings into my pile and expect me to take-off?
Fuck, I’ll blow all over the place like a duststorm, and then poof, vanish right into thin air.
Anyway, I saw this ad in the Sunday paper for Cremations for as little as $695 and thought this might be the way to go, but not if you make Petey watch my ashes. That’d be like a remake of “Home Alone”.
The fam heads off on a European vacation and I wind up getting flushed down the toilet ’cause Petey’s an asshole.
Yeah…no, I don’t think cremation is for me.
I look forward to seeing my mom again, but I’d kind of like to give her a big hug without making her look like that chimney sweep dude from Mary Poppins.